


Take Two

by Viskovie



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Other tags to be added, POV Multiple, Rating May Change, Swearing, al is mad, napoleon thinks he's hilarious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viskovie/pseuds/Viskovie
Summary: Al Capone.Infamous gangster, racketeer and crime icon of the early twentieth century. Known more commonly by his nickname Scarface, which he openly hated.Napoleon Bonaparte.Famous Revolution-era French general. Typically characterised in modern media as unusually short and combative.Not exactly what you'd call 'compatible', but they might be able to make it work. But not before enough mutual pining and angst to put hollywood out of business, of course.
Relationships: Napoleon Bonaparte/Al Capone (Night at the Museum)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Take Two

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Give Me My Car Back You Little Freak](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912205) by [unfledged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfledged/pseuds/unfledged). 



> Hey y'all~ 
> 
> For those of you who don't know, I have actually written this fic already. ~~Sort of.~~ I really didn't like how it was turning out, so I decided to scrap it and start over. I don't post consistently, but I try to write as often as I can. 
> 
> **General disclaimer:** I don't own any of these characters, people, places etc. This is here so I don't have to keep writing it out at the start of every chapter. I've also taken a little creative liberty with the characters and settings. You can only do _so_ much research, and honestly. This is fanfic, not high literature. Enjoy, and shout if there's any glaring errors~

The night was absolutely not going the way Al had planned. Not that he’d really planned  _ much _ , but dinner with one’s housemate didn’t usually include arguments and car theft. And yet here he was. 

About two years back, the Tablet of Ahkmenrah had malfunctioned (broken, short-circuited,  _ whatever _ ) and all the museum exhibits in the vicinity had come back to life. Like, for real this time. Flesh, bones, blood and all. It had been a weird experience, and had equally weird ramifications, but Al did try to be positive. Larry had been kind enough to - first and foremost -  _ forgive _ everyone for all the stuff that happened at the Smithsonian, but also help them set up proper lives again. Al had found himself living in a tiny apartment alongside Ivan the Terrible (or Awesome, depending on who you believed), Kahmunrah (the arrogant brat) and... Napoleon. Fuck. 

It hadn’t been totally unbearable, but the four of them butted heads a little too much and Larry eventually called a meeting to figure it out. It was decided that two of them needed to move out, and Al had volunteered. Unfortunately, so had French Fries. Al had seriously considered just getting his own place, but living alone in New York was ludicrously expensive, so they’d hesitantly agreed to share. Two was still better than four, right? 

On one hand, he could actually hear himself think again. On the other, it meant he had to put up with Nippy’s bullshit all by himself. For the most part, Napoleon wasn’t a terrible flatmate, but for someone so small he sure could be a pain in the ass. Like tonight. 

Al had recently gotten a pay rise, and thought it would be a good idea to celebrate by going out for dinner somewhere. Nothing fancy, just good food and a chance to get out of the apartment. It had been going pretty well, actually, until one of them had said something that pissed the other off and the whole night went to shit. Initially, they’d agreed to split the bill like civilised fucking human beings, but Nippy had taken off and Al had been left to pay. Bastard. 

Anyway, he’d tried to finish his meal in peace but he was too mad to enjoy it. He’d eventually given up and left. He’d then spent the next ten minutes walking around the parking lot like a schmuck looking for his car (which wasn’t exactly easy to miss…) before checking his pocket and realising that Napoleon - the little  _ devil  _ \- had stolen his keys. And although it  _ had  _ kind of been his own fault for leaving them on the table, that’d been the cherry on top for Al. He’d texted French Fries angrily, and waited. 

He must have been waiting for at  _ least  _ another half hour before he finally got a reply. And of course, it was a useless one-word answer.

“No.” With a heart. _ I’m gonna kick his lily white ass into next year,  _ Al thought furiously. Figuring there was no point hanging around hoping Nippy would come back, he stood up and cracked his neck. He thought about calling somebody to pick him up, but after a moment’s consideration decided it would probably be quicker to just walk. 

About halfway home, the wind picked up and bit viciously at his face and hands. He grumbled and pulled his coat tighter around himself. Frenchie was really gonna get it in the neck this time. He eyed the overcast sky warily. If he got rained on now, as well… 

He didn’t, luckily, and made it to their apartment only a little out of breath. He absently promised himself to stay fit this time around; no lazing about until noon and avoiding the greens upon threat of scurvy.  _ Nope, I’m gonna be active and eat healthy,  _ he thought.  _ Well, healthier _ . He unlocked as quietly as he could in the hopes of catching Nippy off-guard. The little bugger was smaller and lighter than him, and could definitely move faster if he had to. If Al was gonna catch him and wring his sorry neck, he’d need to be stealthy. As he opened the door, something fell on him. It took a split second for him to realise he was suddenly soaking wet. He heard Nippy shriek with laughter, but there was water in his eyes and he couldn’t see. Of  _ all  _ the ways to really piss him off, this had to be the worst. Al hated getting wet - especially when the water was cold as ice and he was still fully clothed.

Wiping his face with a dripping sleeve, he swore in blind fury. He heard quick, thudding footsteps taking off down the hall but he was too preoccupied to chase after Napoleon right now. He stripped off his coat and shoes as fast as he could, before shaking the water out of his hair and pulling his phone out of his pocket. It still worked - thank God. He decided to leave his stuff on the floor. A hot shower was in order - laundry could wait. And after that, well. Nippy had better watch his fucking back! It was  _ on _ . 

✧◦᠁᠁᠁᠁᠁✧◦♕◦✧᠁᠁᠁᠁᠁◦✧

Napoleon howled with laughter as he dashed into his room, locking the door behind himself. The look of shock on Capone’s face had been worth the anxiety of setting the whole thing up. He had very carefully, and with great difficulty, suspended a bowl of water above the door, with a string attached to the handle and wound around the coat rack. As soon as the door was opened the string went taut, the bowl fell and the point was his. What better way to dispel the anger of an argument than a harmless prank? 

He waited until he heard the shower turn on before deeming it safe enough to make his way into the kitchen. As he put the kettle on for tea, he eyed the hot water tap. Oh, it would be so,  _ so  _ funny to mess with Capone  _ once more _ , but his self-preservation instincts told him it would also be a phenomenally bad idea. Napoleon had lived with the man long enough (and also maybe done some sneaky research) to know he had a short temper and penchant for violence. A shoot-first-questions-after sort of man. No, he’d save that idea for another time. 

He made his tea, found a biscuit and settled down to read. About forty-five minutes later, he heard Capone stomp into his own bedroom and slam the door.  _ Oops, _ he thought in amusement. _ I guess he didn’t find it  _ quite  _ as funny as I did. _ He made a mental note to not play any more jokes for the next few days, so as to give Capone a chance to calm down. The mobster would probably try to retaliate, but he was ready. Nothing would catch him off guard! After a bit, his flatmate appeared in the hall again. 

“Nice shower?” He called out, simply to be a menace. Capone just growled and stalked off. He came back a moment later with an armful of sodden cloth. 

“Have you cleaned up the spill?” Napoleon added as he went past. 

“I’m gonna mop the floor with  _ you _ , shortstack.” Capone hissed. Napoleon tutted. What a way to speak to someone! He lazily finished his (fresh) cup of tea, before hauling himself off the sofa. It was his turn for a shower. Or maybe a bath… He contemplated the pros and cons of each as he washed his cup and placed it back in the cupboard. He was starting to get tired, so a quick shower would probably be best. 

Finding his pajama pants proved difficult, as it took him a while to remember that he’d put them in the wash that morning, and had subsequently forgotten to hang them out.  _ Damnit! _ He thought crossly.  _ I knew there was something! _ He debated what to do, but eventually figured it didn’t matter all that much. He found his longest shirt and crossed his fingers that Capone wouldn’t see him. Nothing like a bit of leg to really get a man’s blood up.

He was happily minding his own business when the shower suddenly ran cold. He cried out and hurriedly turned it off.  _ Of course _ his damn flatmate had used up all the hot water! Sighing, he dried himself off and tugged his shirt over his head. Fantastic, now he was all cold again. He wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to his room. Having located some sort-of appropriate pants, he trotted back to the kitchen to put on another pot of tea. 

He found Capone leaning against the sink, looking cool as could be. The gangster looked him in the eye and flicked the hot tap on. 

“Nice shower?” He purred. Napoleon gave him a strange look. Did the bowl hit him too hard on the head? 

“Good and warm?” Capone added, his voice like honey. Suddenly the pieces fell into place. Napoleon’s mouth fell open. 

“You- but- my  _ shower! _ ” He spluttered. Capone grinned. 

“Fair’s only fair, French Fry.” He said, examining his nails nonchalantly. Napoleon felt the heat rising in his chest. He had definitely not expected vengeance to come this soon. And apparently, the prank was not as original as he’d thought. Damn. 

“We’re even now, ya got it?” Capone finished, turning the tap back off and giving Napoleon the eye. The Frenchman glared. Oh they were most certainly not even! To be so, willingly, with the enemy was to admit defeat. And Napoleon did not bow to defeat!


End file.
